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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337216">Step back at least five feet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell'>Lohrendrell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Dandelion Fucked Up, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt No Comfort, Past Geralt's Temporary Amnesia, broken relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:00:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t forgive you,” Geralt said at last.</p>
<p>“I know.” With a choked voice, probably trying to control a sob, the poet said, “Please try anyway?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Step back at least five feet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I personally always thought it was bad writing and a plot hole that Dandelion never told Geralt about Ciri and Yennefer, especially because his FIRST DIALOGUE in Witcher 1 with Geralt has him hinting at Regis. Why?? No explanation whatsoever. My dear friend Mandy came up with a great interpretation of why Dandelion and Geralt's relationship in Witcher 3 is so different from the books <i>and</i> Witcher 2: maybe Geralt never really forgave Dandelion for not telling him the truth.  And tbh, Geralt does seem lowkey annoyed by Dandelion, more than considering him a close friend...</p>
<p>This is a tidbit thingy that addresses this problem :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dandelion found him in the wine cellar one afternoon, the second week of his staying in Corvo Bianco. An uninvited guest, the poet was all easy smiles, bright colors, and his usual overall annoying self. Geralt didn’t kick him out when he appeared at his doorstep because he claimed he couldn’t leave before Beauclair’s festivities were over. The roads were filled with merchants and noblemen, all who could recognize him in a heartbeat.</p>
<p>In many ways, the life of a witcher meant getting used to shit being thrown your way all the time. Endure the pain, kill if it’s a creature, don’t get involved if it’s a human—Vesemir’s lesson, something Geralt forgot at some point along the way.</p>
<p>Dandelion couldn’t risk the news of his presence in Toussaint reaching the Duchess’s ears, and Geralt couldn’t risk being seen as a traitor, so he gritted his teeth and pulled Dandelion inside by his extravagant collar. Endure, Geralt had thought that first day. Endure for a little while.</p>
<p>“Geralt!” Dandelion greeted as he entered the cellar, where Geralt was counting stock for the fourth or fifth time in the past few days. “There you are, my friend. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.”</p>
<p>“Here.”</p>
<p>“Marlene says you took your breakfast with you and didn’t come back for lunch. Is everything alright?”</p>
<p>Geralt didn’t answer. He could feel Dandelion’s presence looming over him, but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at the other man.</p>
<p>“Geralt?”</p>
<p>When Geralt didn’t answer once more, Dandelion sighed. “You can talk to me, you know…” he said quietly. When Geralt still didn’t say anything, the poet’s voice became louder, cheerful. “Well! Fear not, dear friend, for my songs might fill the silence between us, and with some luck will replenish your poor little heart with joy.”</p>
<p>He started plucking at his lute, singing one of his bullshit songs that were part of his newest “White Wolf Circle” or whatever. Geralt didn’t care.</p>
<p>Dandelion had been doing that all these days: retelling stories from the past for anyone who would listen, tales of their many adventures together, of when they met in Gulet, of their trip to the edge of the world, of the day they stumbled upon a ceremony of fae folk in some random forest. Geralt hadn’t remembered any of that, once, but now he did. Now he remembered everything, including what happened—or <i>didn’t happen</i>—after he came back from the dead.</p>
<p>Geralt didn’t know exactly what was the last straw, but when he finally snapped and yelled, “Shut up,” he found out he didn’t care. At least Dandelion shut his trap. For a little while, that is.</p>
<p>“Geralt—”</p>
<p>“I said shut up.” It came out more like a growl than he intended, but it was good enough; it made Dandelion go utterly still.</p>
<p>Long moments of silence stretched out, not a single note played to <i>“replenish the emptiness”</i> or whatever poetic bullshit Dandelion would flourish the truth with. Geralt knew what he was doing. He knew that Dandelion had already realized, he had already understood Geralt’s feelings—probably saw it all coming from miles away, when Geralt was too frantic in his search for Ciri, memories fresh and worry renewed, and he saw in the poet one of the last resorts of information to find his daughter.</p>
<p>Geralt hadn’t connected the dots yet, at that time. Dandelion might’ve done it by then.</p>
<p>Dandelion whispered, so softly it was only reachable to a witcher’s enhanced hearing, “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“I know what you’re doing,” Geralt told him. “Composing new ballads, flaunting the past around like a trophy, trying to stake your claim.”</p>
<p>Geralt knew what Dandelion wanted back. The camaraderie, the friendship, the <i>them<i>. But Geralt just couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what Dandelion <i>didn’t</i> do for him.</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I can’t forgive you,” Geralt said at last.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I know.” With a choked voice, probably trying to control a sob, the poet said, “Please try anyway?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Geralt snapped, turning around. “And why would I do that?” The cornflower blue eyes were filled with tears; Dandelion looked like he was trying his hardest to not let them fall. Geralt looked away. “I’ve been told I was taken advantage of. I was told, one year and a half ago, that my lack of memory could become a tool used against myself. I didn’t agree back then, do you know why? ‘I got friends’, it’s what I said. ‘I got a friend who will do me no harm, he tells me everything’.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Dandelion sobbed, but for once in his life, Geralt didn’t reach for him.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“So you can guess my surprise, my—” he clenched his fists “—the betrayal of learning I had a child who was lost, a daughter my friend knew about, and still didn’t tell me anything.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I didn’t know!” Dandelion cried. “I didn’t know Ciri was in danger!”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You couldn’t have known that. But you knew of her existence. You followed me again, you saw me with kids, with Alvin, you knew of everything that had happened. And still you didn’t say a thing.” He looked at Dandelion, finally. “Why?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Dandelion was openly crying, hugging his lute as if it served as some kind of shield. He shook his head frantically. “I didn’t— I didn’t know how—”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Or you just wanted me for yourself once more.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“No!”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I can understand you not saying a word about Yennefer; you never liked her. But Ciri?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m sorry.” Dandelion was fully bawling now, the way he did when he thought Geralt was dead after a hunt, all those years ago.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Geralt felt a pang in his chest, as if his heart had been slapped, and now someone was trying to squeeze it off. He realized why: It was the third time Dandelion was losing his friend.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dandelion repeated, crying like a child.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Geralt gave him his back.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Go away, please.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Geralt—”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Go. Away.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It took him a long time to finally move, but eventually Dandelion did as he was told. Geralt listened as his footsteps withdrew, the sound of sniffs and sobs diminishing until he was completely alone with his wine bottles. Geralt looked down at the bottle he had been clutching. Fiorano. Dandelion’s favourite.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He dropped it on the floor as if it were burning.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>That night, Geralt didn’t hear the distinct sounds of a lute being played.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He didn’t search for Dandelion, didn’t ask his employees if they’d seen him. Still, the next morning, he knew Dandelion was gone.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments make me smile so much :D Do tell me what you thought about this, I'll love to read it &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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